Lay Us Down To Sleep
by Funky In Fishnet
Summary: Werewolves start sleeping Stiles' bed, when Stiles is still in it, because that's what packs do. Weird, but it does give him nightmare-free sleep. And Derek seems to be dropping hints, maybe. Or maybe Stiles is just imagining that, since his Alpha-sized crush on Derek is getting out of hand. Or maybe not.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything._

_**Author Notes:** Set after the season two finale episode 'Master Plan.'_

* * *

It was extremely difficult to find a comfortable way to lie down when your body was covered with bruises and each body part had its own special ache or pain. Stiles glared up at the ceiling and tried to reposition again. No, that was even worse. He'd taken all the medication that he could and it still sucked. He wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, or possibly ever again.

Stiles didn't call for help. His Dad had been hovering since Stiles had stumbled home and was still pretty upset and angry at what had happened to his son which in turn made Stiles feel guilty for getting hurt and worrying his father. The Stilinski house was not a happy one.

Stiles was considering just how painful it would be to text somebody when he heard two sets of footsteps approaching his room. His Dad entered first.

"You've got a visitor."

Then Isaac slid in, looking almost shy. The Sheriff nodded at him.

"Don't tire him out."

Once the Sheriff left, Isaac stepped closer. Stiles eyed him curiously. He hadn't expected anybody to come and see him – the evening had been a nuclear brand of crazy for everybody and the pack probably wanted to lick wounds and heal together. So why was Isaac here?

"Thought you'd be with pack tonight."

Isaac looked at him like he was stupid. "I am."

Stiles coughed out a laugh and winced at how much it hurt his ribs. "Ah, please, no mocking right now. My body's turned on me and it doesn't need the extra ammunition."

Isaac frowned and sort of hovered near Stiles. Oh God, another one.

"What? You're making me nervous with the hovering and the silence."

"You don't know?"

Really? They were going to play these kind of frustrating Derek-Hale-esque games now? When he was injured? "Know what?"

"You're pack, Stiles."

Stiles gaped for a while before lifting his chin and trying to look away without causing himself any more pain. "Did I mention that mocking me right now causes injuries? Unless that was your game plan, in which case bravo."

Isaac hovered indecisively for a second, then sat down on Stiles' bed. "You've been pack for a while, since before Scott joined us."

Stiles shook his head. "No, I'm human, and clearly the easy one to kidnap. I'm pretty sure Derek doesn't want liabilities like that in his pack."

His heartrate went up a little when he thought about Derek. Isaac was good enough not to comment on it. Instead, he scooted closer and pressed a hand to Stiles' collarbone, bared by his loose pajama top.

"Woah, unexpected. What's with the…?"

His words tampered off as heat rushed through him and weird inky-black veins spiderwebbed across Isaac's arm. It was like he could barely breathe until Isaac let go, swaying for a second and suddenly looking a lot more pale and wan. Stiles gasped in air and then tried to scramble out of Isaac's reach, which he realized he could do without feeling pain. And some of the marks had faded from his arms and chest.

"What the hell just happened?"

Isaac managed a tired smile. "Werewolves can take away people's pain."

"And suffer instead?" At Isaac's nod, Stiles shook his head. "Thanks, but why would you…? I mean, really, thanks, but why…?"

Isaac gave him that look again and hey, that was uncalled for. "You're pack."

Huh. He really did believe that, didn't he? Stiles was still pretty convinced otherwise.

"Okay, like I said, thanks, but please, don't do that again. It's going to look really weird if I'm suddenly, you know, unmarked."

Isaac nodded, then slunk down onto the bedclothes. He curled himself up next to Stiles, his head resting on Stiles' good shoulder. Stiles froze for a moment; because there was no way he'd been expecting that. Isaac rested a hand on his leg.

"You're pack, Stiles. This helps."

So this was something the whole pack did? Often? Like a…wolf pile? He'd seen enough Animal Planet for that to make sense, sort of. And it did feel nice. Stiles could feel the tension beginning to leave him.

"How come you're not doing this with the others?"

"Derek and Peter are looking for Boyd and Erica. There's an Alpha pack out there."

An Alpha pack? Stiles shifted so that he could look at Isaac. "A pack of Alphas? How does that even work?"

Isaac shrugged and hesitated before asking "I thought Peter was dead."

Yeah. So did Stiles. And he was going to package up that whole being-offered-the-bite thing and push it right to the back of his mind so that he didn't have to think about it. He shrugged a little. "He was. Derek killed him. Hey, I'll tell you that story, if you fill me in on the Alpha pack."

So they exchanged stories, not that Stiles enjoyed recounting how very screwed up the Hale family past was and how surviving the house fire that had killed most of his family had turned Peter a particularly murderous degree of insane. Still, it was something that Isaac should definitely know about if Peter was sticking around. How did that even work, Peter and Derek peacefully co-existing in the same pack? Peter had to have an endgame in mind. And Stiles would get right onto thinking about that once his body was completely healed.

Isaac's breathing had evened out once they'd stopped talking and he was now asleep. He looked so young. What a week it had been for everyone. Clearly Derek had decided that Isaac was too exhausted to help in the hunt or maybe he'd wanted some quality time with his crazy undead uncle. Either way, Stiles was glad of the company.

Speaking of, why hadn't his Dad come up to tell Isaac that it was time to head home? It was very un-Dad-like behavior. Unless...had he been talking to Mrs McCall? Did he know something, something werewolfy? Oh God, that was a thought to terrify. It explained his constant checks on Stiles and some of the weird facial expressions he'd been sporting. And he'd probably wait for the perfect time to ambush Stiles with that revelation and say exactly what he thought of it. Great.

Stiles eyed his bedroom window. No secret visitors since the kidnapping. Had Derek and Peter found the others yet? Or had the Alpha pack found them? An Alpha pack. He really had to hit the books tomorrow. He already felt free of a lot of the pain.

Stiles yawned – who knew that hitting a giant lizard with your Jeep would make you so tired? – and managed to find a comfortable way to lie down without disturbing Isaac. He was asleep in seconds.

Sleep was good, right up until a noise woke Stiles and he noticed a particularly familiar shadow in the corner of his room. He had to swallow down a reactionary yelp. His Dad might be weirdly accepting of pack-mates and wolf behavior, but he was definitely not going to be cool with an older one-time murder suspect hanging out in Stiles' bedroom in the middle of the night.

"How is it possible that you trained your betas to have more manners than you? Isaac actually knocked, on the front door."

Derek took a couple of steps nearer. "Pretty sure your Dad wouldn't want to answer the door right now and find me there."

Okay, point. Still. Stile struggled to sit up until Derek pressed a hand gently to his shoulder. The gesture felt weirdly intimate in the dark and it made something funny happen to Stiles' heartbeat. It got even more intimate when Derek leaned closer, his breath warm on Stiles' face before he scented Stiles' neck. Reassurance, Stiles realized. Derek had nearly lost his pack tonight and now he wanted to make sure that they were all present and accounted for, and safe. Wow, Stiles really was part of the pack.

He wet his suddenly dry mouth. "So…um…Boyd and Erica are okay?"

Something shifted in Derek's expression. "Maybe."

"Maybe? Maybe is not an answer. Maybe is a stalling tactic. I know this because I am the king of stalling, okay?"

There was another shift in Derek's expression. His hand stayed where it was, warm through a thin cotton layer of pajamas. "The Alpha pack sent a message. Erica and Boyd are sleeping it off."

A message. Probably the same message that Gerard Argent had sent when kidnapping Stiles. Stiles flinched at the memory. Derek shifted a little closer and squeezed his shoulder. After a moment's hesitation, Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek's wrist. It felt like the right thing to do and Derek wasn't glaring at him. Instead, he was staring – and there was a difference, Stiles had mentally cataloged all of Derek's eye-piercing looks. His intense gaze was raking Stiles like he was doing some cataloging of his own. He must have noticed the dance that Stiles' heart had done when Derek had touched his shoulder. Why not add humiliation to tonight's pain?

Derek's gaze shifted to Isaac, who was still curled up against Stiles.

"He's wiped out. He did something, something that took away my pain? Can all werewolves do that?"

Derek nodded, his free hand stroking briefly through Isaac's pale curls. "It's stronger in me, as the Alpha."

Stiles bit his lip. He had a question forming. But now that Derek was here, touching him, he was seriously rethinking asking it. He wasn't going to find an answer anywhere else though, as his other source was currently asleep and could be ordered by the Alpha not to answer. So he bit the proverbial bullet.

"Did you tell Isaac to come here and do that?"

The silence seemed deafening afterward. Derek shook his head.

"I told him to stay safe and hidden in case the Alphas were out looking for more of our pack, and that I'd let him know when it was safe at the den."

And Isaac had decided that the safest place to be was in Stiles' bedroom – admittedly the Sheriff and his gun were at home too, so it was kind of a good call. Isaac had also decided that healing Stiles and suffering himself in Stiles' place was top of the 'to do' list too.

"Huh," was all Stiles could come out with.

Something that might have been a tiny smile flickered across Derek's face. Then he disentangled himself from Stiles and straightened out. Stiles felt oddly bereft. Derek didn't look so hot either. He probably thought he was hiding it behind his impenetrable walls but Stiles had his number, literally and figuratively. How many miles had Derek covered tonight searching out his missing pack members?

"You look like shit, sourwolf. Get some sleep."

Derek, who'd begun heading for the window, turned back slowly and pointedly raised his eyebrows at Stiles' bedmate. Stiles flushed, something that he prayed was hidden by the darkness.

"Not that I wouldn't love to be the filling in a werewolf sandwich, but my Dad's not a fan and risking it after today seems like bad idea since he keeps checking up on me and will probably give me a wake-up call tomorrow…"

Derek continued to look significantly at Isaac, because wouldn't Stiles' Dad have something to say about somebody else that had spent time in a Beacon Hills interrogation room lying in bed with his son? Ah.

"Yeah, about that. I think my Dad might know…something. It's just a hunch but he didn't kick Isaac out and Mrs McCall knows and she knows I know about everything so they've probably talked because he ought to know about it and now he does, probably."

Derek nodded. "He hasn't said anything?"

"Oh no. He'll hold onto it so that he can surprise me with it when I least expect it, or he'll wait to see if I'll crack first and tell him. It's Parenting 101 – How To Traumatize Your Offspring."

That, Derek smirked at.

"Another time then," was all he said before he disappeared out of the window.

It was Stiles' turn to stare as he spluttered. Another time? Another time to come curl up in Stiles' bed when Stiles was in it? And if Isaac hadn't done it, would Derek have healed Stiles? Stiles ground his teeth and settled back down to begin the futile search for sleep.

There was no way he was going to find restful dreams after that conversation. His heart was still hammering fast. And his shoulder still felt warm from Derek's touch.

When he woke up the next morning, Isaac was grinning at him knowingly. Because he'd no doubt smelled his Alpha's night-time visit. Great. Stiles threw his alarm clock in Isaac's direction. Fucking werewolves.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a couple of days later that Boyd and Erica showed up in Stiles' bedroom. Again, through the front door. God, his Dad was torturing him with his non-interference and no questions about the sudden number of school friends wanting to visit Stiles' bedroom. They both looked fine, thank you handy werewolf super-healing. Despite that, and as much as Erica sneered at Stiles' décor, there was something in her and Boyd's eyes that Stiles recognized. Welcome to the kidnapping survival club.

"So I'm guessing this isn't about my awesome research skills."

Boyd smiled "Not this time."

Erica blew off any attempt at subtlety and lay down on Stiles' bed. She kicked her shoes off with a satisfied sigh. "It's going to be a tight fit."

"Hey! Haven't you got your own beds at the den?"

Erica rolled her eyes and nestled down, getting comfortable. "Not really the point, Batman."

"It's the fact that it's your bed and you're here," added Boyd, because he was the helpful werewolf with answers instead of sarcasm and mocking.

It was starting to piece together in Stiles' head. Boyd and Erica had suffered first Gerard kidnapping them, then whatever had happened to them when they'd met the Alpha pack. They'd obviously healed physically, but apparently they needed something else, with Stiles, who'd also been kidnapped. And clearly the first rule of this kidnapping survivors club was that you didn't talk about it.

Boyd was watching him and must have seen something important in Stiles' expression, because in the next moment he sat down on the bed and pulled his jacket and shirt off. Stiles swallowed a little, because Boyd was not difficult to look at. Erica smirked at the look on Stiles' face. Boyd just smiled and lay down behind Erica, wrapping his arms comfortably around her. They both looked expectantly at Stiles.

He hadn't gotten a full night's sleep in days. He woke up a lot, gasping, panicking, remembering Gerard's threats and fists. He remembered the words and how they'd scraped him raw. He remembered how his reflection had stared at him out of the bathroom mirror. He could see that same look in Boyd and Erica's eyes now. He had slept better when Isaac had been lying beside him.

With a put-upon sigh, he kicked off his shoes and was out of his first shirt before remembering that taking his pants off in front of the wolves was not a good idea. Erica catcalled as he made a quick dash to the bathroom where he spat out toothpaste, changed into sleep shorts, and stared for too long into the mirror.

The bed was crowded and overheated, but Boyd and Erica pulled him insistently close. Boyd's hand rested on his hip and Erica touched her head briefly to his before giving him a little breathing room and leaving her arm across his body. Stiles tried not to fidget and disturb the two werewolves. He'd never shared a bed with more than one person before. It was less awkward than he'd expected. Okay, it was still ridiculously awkward, but they weren't doing the werewolf healing magic and they looked really comfortable and content together in his bed. And considering what they'd been through recently, that was pretty cool.

Sleep was starting to steal over Stiles so he arranged himself carefully and prayed to any God who'd listen that he wouldn't wake up with his hands on Erica's chest because she'd either kill him or embarrass him to death, like by telling his father about it. God.

The sleep was as restful as it had been when Isaac had been present. This time though, in the morning Stiles woke up alone. He could hear the shower running and somebody was downstairs talking to his father. Boyd? His Dad sounded amused. Huh. He so knew about werewolves. Boyd and Erica wouldn't have stayed so far into the morning otherwise. Thank God it was the weekend.

Erica stuck her head round the door, her hair dark and dripping down her back. She looked refreshed and happy. Stiles felt a little smug that he'd helped make that happen. That feeling of goodwill lasted for all of a few seconds; right up until Erica opened her mouth.

"Thanks for drooling on me. How long do you think it'll be before you're house-trained?"

Stiles glared. He did not drool that much. Besides "Oh, so it's okay for you to scent-mark me but you can't handle a little Stiles drool?"

Erica smirked and darted close super-fast to rub teasingly and briefly against his side. Stiles willed himself to stay still – if he made any sudden uncomfortable movements, then she'd just do it for longer - and averted his eyes from her distracting chest. He deserved a medal for succeeding in both.

"Your Dad's making pancakes."

She grabbed a jacket – black leather of course – and tossed her wet hair over her shoulder as she left. Stiles transferred his gaze to the bed. He should probably wash the sheets, but maybe the pack wouldn't need to visit him for a while. Maybe the smell they'd left behind would help him to sleep better in their absence.

He was still contemplating the idea when Derek vaulted easily in through the window. Stiles jumped, though not as violently as he sometimes did at sudden Hale appearances. He counted that as a victory.

"Your pups are downstairs eating my Dad's superior breakfast pancakes. You're welcome, by the way."

Derek scented the air and nodded at the rumpled bed. "They're still...processing."

Something unfolded in Stiles' chest. He tried not to sound too invested with his next words. "And you suggested my room would help with that?"

Derek looked at him, but he didn't roll his eyes and he didn't sound or look annoyed. "It helps for the pack to be together. Isaac's with Scott and Allison. Jackson and Lydia need each other. You..."

Stiles had been through what Boyd and Erica had. He was the right person for the job. They'd all gotten an undisturbed night's sleep. That did leave one question though, and Stiles didn't want to disturb the really pleasant peace that was the current vibe between him and Derek but this needed to be said. Because no one else was asking it and somebody really needed to.

"So who helps you?"

Derek didn't answer. He did watch Stiles for a few moments more. Stiles' heartbeat sounded really loud in his own ears. How loud was it to Derek?

Maybe it wasn't that loud when he was probably overwhelmed by the strong smell of Stiles' want. Stiles abruptly cleared his throat. "There's going to be extra pancakes, you really don't want to miss out."

There was that flickering again in Derek's expression. But he didn't stay. He nodded at Stiles before disappearing silently out the window.

Stiles fell back onto his bed, trying to slow his quickening heartbeat and stop the flush caused by the look that had been in Derek's eyes.

And downstairs were two werewolves who wouldn't hesitate to comment on just why Stiles was looking so frazzled. Oh, fuck his life.

* * *

Jackson and Lydia curled up next to him on the couch a few days later. The pack had been watching a movie and now most were lazing in various combinations. Stiles was smooshed in the middle of Jackson and Lydia. Jackson was a restless sleeper, unsurprisingly, and whilst Stiles was a little unnerved by the idea of sharing close personal space with the former giant lizard who'd regularly tried to kill them, Jackson was heartbreakingly obvious in his need for the tactileness of the pack. He still insulted and shoved and sneered. But the others were helping him deal with his wolf and no matter how he postured, the fact that he needed them was always front and center.

So Stiles snarked back and didn't comment when Jackson leaned against him and gave a satisfied sigh. Lydia made contact with him from the other side of Stiles, her leg stretched across his lap. It would have been the stuff of Stiles' dreams a few short weeks ago. But really, Lydia and Jackson had always been intertwined even when they'd broken up and their powerful reunion had just been a final punch in the face reality check.

It was surprisingly okay to be wrapped up in them. In fact, it felt as comfortable as the times Scott and Allison curled up together and included him, Allison laughing at Stiles' complaints that Scott hadn't outgrown his habit of kicking in his sleep. It was a good warm feeling, like lying beside pack members always was.

When he next looked up, Derek was leaning against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on Stiles. Stiles wet his lips and silently tried to persuade his heart to keep quiet. He was in a room full of werewolves, for fuck's sake. And, yet despite what he'd clearly picked up on, Derek didn't snarl or look disgusted or even vaguely amused. He didn't make one of his strategic exits either, the ones he usually made whenever Stiles pushed him past his comfort zones.

Instead, he looked sort of…_fond_. Maybe because he was looking at the pack and they were all actually resting instead of arguing or indulging in the usual state of chaos. But his gaze was fixed more particularly on Stiles, and Jackson and Lydia wrapped around him having a pack nap.

Stiles forced himself to hold Derek's gaze for a few long minutes – his heart still racing. He was apparently the pack's favorite cuddle blanket which was more than a little embarrassing, yes, but if it meant that everybody got better sleep including him, then fine, cuddle away. Stiles snuggled down to try and join the others in sleep. Drowsily, he could hear Derek pushing Isaac over to make room for himself on the floor. Derek was actually going to stay, when the Sheriff could walk in at any time now. Huh. That wouldn't last long.

But when the Sheriff did arrive home, Derek was still there. Stiles didn't know which fact he was more shocked by – that his Dad's only reaction to the pile of sleeping teenagers in his front room was to remind Stiles that it was his turn to cook tonight and to have fun with that, or that Derek had actually stayed when he'd heard the Sheriff park up outside and that he then stayed for dinner afterward.

The wolves were their usual tactile selves as they ate, and again his Dad didn't comment, but damn it Stiles was not going to blink first. So he ended up with full contented werewolves leaning against him by the time dessert was retrieved from the fridge. It was nice. It was better than unwashed sheets, which were the only comfort he had when sleeping alone now. Nights alone were the only times that his nightmares returned.

Stiles shook his head to clear that cheery thought and concentrated on breaking up a fight between Isaac and Jackson over the last piece of pie. He could smell Lydia's perfume, Jackson's overpowering deodorant, and the peachy shampoo that Erica had used that morning. He didn't have wolf senses but he was learning to use what he had and the familiarity comforted him. He always tried to commit the scents to memory, for the quiet nights alone. He didn't need to memorize Derek's. It was already impossible for him to forget.

* * *

The rain had been falling hard for days. It was getting treacherous to be traveling on tarmac, let alone through the woods, so Stiles didn't see many wolves for a while. His sleep patterns suffered accordingly. They all kept in touch thanks to the magic of cellphones and the internet but it really wasn't the same. At least they all had somebody – Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were all holed up together, Lydia and Jackson had each other, and Allison and Scott were a no-brainer. So whilst they all missed pack-time, they all had someone to lessen the temporary blow. Stiles had his computer, his cellphone, and a bedroom window that had not been opened for a while.

Of course, when the rain was at its worst and an honest to God thunder and lightning storm was happening was when that changed.

Stiles had just managed to drift off to sleep when his window loudly opened and Derek slid through. And now the rain was falling onto his desk and all of his work. Stiles startled upright, turning on the lamp beside him with a flail. His eyes screwed shut against the sudden light.

"My research, dude! Stop the flood!"

He was pulling the duvet back to deal with it when Derek shut the window. Stiles sagged back in relief. Then squinted one eye open. Derek was soaked through. Leather was his thing, and it suited him to an absurd degree, but it didn't keep the rain off.

"Do I want to know why you were running in the middle of a storm? Are we getting a plague of frogs soon? Are there mermaids? Or…"

"Stiles."

Derek was glaring at him and wow, he actually smelled like wet dog. That was hilarious. Stiles couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face. Derek clearly knew what he was thinking because, once he'd stripped off his sodden jacket and squelched out of his shoes, he took very purposeful steps towards Stiles' bed and that wasn't sexy at all. Nope, it really wasn't.

Stiles hurried to talk. "Towels are in the hall closet. My Dad's downstairs so maybe keep it..."

Stiles' sentence went unfinished because Derek had already sped out of the door. He returned with a large green beach towel. The Sheriff wasn't coming upstairs, he wasn't even asking who Stiles was speaking to. Because he probably already knew. Probably. The waiting game was killer and his Dad was a master at it.

And Derek was peeling his t-shirt off.

"Hey, woah..."

Stiles couldn't stop looking because hello, Derek's unfeasibly cut body. He could watch while Derek was drying himself off, right? That totally wasn't weird. Not at all. It was too wet out there for Derek to be in the den, which wouldn't offer much solid protection against the weather. He'd sent Erica and Isaac to be with Boyd and his family. He could wait it out in Stiles' room. That made sense.

Right, total sense, except that Derek was now taking his jeans off. Stiles gaped for a few brief seconds before lying down very quickly indeed. He turned the lamp off, hoping the dark covered his blushes. No big deal. Derek was just mostly naked in his room. No big deal at all. Only he hadn't told Derek where the air mattress and blankets were kept, which meant that Derek would assume that, like the other pack members, he'd be sleeping in…

There was a weighted dip on the bed. Stiles bit his lip. He wasn't going to say anything. He should say something.

Derek prowled up the bed and lay down. There was a little bit of space between them. Stiles tried hard not to breathe. Derek Hale was in his bed. And his Dad was downstairs and probably aware of this fact. Oh God.

"Stiles." Hearing Derek growl his name did not help at all. "Calm down."

Right, because his heart was racing. Stiles croaked out a laugh and hunched further down into the covers. He was fine. He was going to sleep beside Derek Hale. An almost naked Derek Hale. And...

His train of thought completely short-circuited when Derek wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, right back against Derek's firm chest. Because the pack cuddled, it was what they did. Only usually there wasn't so much skin on display. Stiles willed his heartrate to slow, for Derek not to smell his raging hormonal reaction to the whole situation. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Stiles."

That tone was different. And Derek was pushing his face into the crook of Stiles' neck. Stiles swallowed down a squeak and tried not to tremble. Derek's hand stroked down his side, like he was quietening an animal. Stiles' skin felt hot. Derek didn't stop touching him. There was a small graze of teeth against Stiles' neck. Then a tongue, a very thorough tongue.

If Derek was doing this to calm him down, it wasn't working. At all.

Derek made a noise deep in his chest. It sounded...contented. Stiles' fingers unclenched from around his pillow. He wasn't the only one who'd been without a pack-mate the past few days, though he couldn't see Derek doing this with any of the others. He** really**hoped that this wasn't just a pack thing. Hesitantly, he rested a hand on Derek's where it was massaging Stiles' hip. It only lasted a second, but Derek definitely paused. Stiles smiled. He was awesome. His heartbeat agreed.

Derek held him a little tighter. His tongue and teeth were still leisurely working on Stiles' neck. Stiles tilted his head to give the Alpha better access, because it felt really good and he really didn't want Derek to come to his senses and stop.

He managed to gasp out. "I…ah…okay, this definitely doesn't happen to me when the others sleep here."

"Good."

The possessiveness in Derek's voice shouldn't have made Stiles let out a whine but it did and he nestled back against Derek and oh…Derek was hard. Derek didn't seem embarrassed about that at all. In fact, he growled against Stiles' neck and arranged their bodies to his satisfaction before nuzzling against Stiles' shoulder and neck.

"Sleep, Stiles."

Stiles hesitated, half-turning his head, because he could definitely feel how interested Derek was against his thigh. Sleep did not seem like the normal next step in this situation. Not that Stiles had much experience in whatever the normal next step was, but it just seemed like…

"Don't you…I mean, I could…"

Derek's hand was gentle on his chest. "Sleep, Stiles."

Stiles bit his lip and hmmed. It felt like the sort of moment to say something, to push a little, to make sure that this wasn't a crazy cabin fever one-time-only situation. He quirked a kind of tentative grin into his pillow and managed a whispery invitation of almost-movement against the firm body behind him.

"Another time then."

He felt Derek smirk against his shoulder. Then the brief nip of teeth there that felt like a promise.

_-the end_


End file.
